


second best

by tsuluio



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending kinda, Depression, Gen, Loneliness, Suicidal Thoughts, being overshadowed, light fluff, not really a character study but close enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 01:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20574143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuluio/pseuds/tsuluio
Summary: Aloha hasn't just joined the S4. He's becoming the S4.And Scuba, always second best to everything, doesn't know how much second best he can handle.





	second best

**Author's Note:**

> Don't you know I'm no good for you?  
I've learned to lose you, can't afford to  
Tore my shirt to stop you bleedin'  
But nothin' ever stops you leavin'

Ever since Emperor, there's been less of everything. Less parties, less music, less dancing, less turfing, less Aloha. And Scuba isn't one to focus too much on the lesser parts of life, the parts he didn't have, but it's starting to nag at him a little. 

Just a little.

It's a Friday, a party day, and while Aloha would usually be at the base already, pulling things together, calling up the last few on the guest list, he isn't here, like he hasn't been for the past two weeks.

And still Scuba thinks nothing of it. He can't, he won't. Because thinking of it means facing the truth, means facing the future.

He's not ready for that yet.

It's only until Octoglasses shows up half an hour late, eyes wide and brimming with tears, hand clenching the straps of her ink tank so hard that her knuckles are white does he finally allow his mind to enter the subject of Aloha. Why isn't their leader here? Why aren't they halfway to Mahi Mahi by now, bathed in laughter, phones lighting up with messages of the partygoers?

Octoglasses stands there in the doorway, tears finally flowing, trickling down her chin into her shirt, staining into a dark red. Neither Straw nor Scuba approach her, confusion and dread settling upon the remaining two members.

When she can finally speak, she gasps, "He's gone."

They know who 'he' is without asking. She elaborates anyway.

"Aloha. He's with the S4. Permanently."

\--

They say she's being dramatic, and Scuba is one of them, forcing past his feelings with a smile, the stone wall he's learned to keep emotions out and a wide grin in. Aloha's with the S4. He'll be happy with them. He says it all with a cheerful tone, an encouraging one, because if she keeps crying like this, he'll cry too. 

And that isn't something he's too keen on. It's better to keep everything bottled up inside than let anyone know what he's thinking.

So he offers Octoglasses a tissue, some comforting words, and hopes it'll work before he loses it.

\--

It works. She stops crying.

\--

He's always been second best to everything, everything because Aloha is the best, always, no exceptions. Maybe it's a measure on skill, a measure on stamina, a measure on speed, but whatever it is, Scuba stops trying.

He'll stand next to his best friend in the entire world as they receive admiration, adulation, adoration, anything that proved Aloha's worth because he _is_ worth it, Scuba can attest to that. He'll watch Aloha move through life, always the first and foremost, always the famous, the loved, the best at everything. And he'll smile.

Because Scuba's second best, always second best, and he doesn't even have to try to achieve that.

\--

Skill takes work, is what Aloha told him once, and Scuba knows this well. If skill didn't take work, Aloha wouldn't be the only one on the field during that battle with Blue Team. If skill didn't take work, they'd ace every match. If skill didn't take work, everyone would be _too_ skilled and the world would come to an even balance where perfect is the norm and measured skill starts at zero, which is to say, one hundred. 

So it makes sense. Skill takes work.

Scuba knows what he's doing when he quits in the middle of battle. He doesn't know if Straw and Octoglasses know the same. They're tired, ready to give up, and he simply sits with them because there's nothing else for him to do. To help Aloha would mean to take a title upon himself, to make himself more worthy than second best, and he knows Aloha won't like that. 

But he also knows Aloha likes to win, and he's torn until a blue streak crosses his vision and makes up his mind for him.

\--

If Scuba _had_ to be the best at anything -- which he isn't -- it'd be in supporting Aloha. His friend means everything to him and cod knows if he'll ever abandon him.

So he doesn't. 

He's there when the team is first formed, there during their first battles, there during their climb to S+, and now here while he wonders if this is the last battle they'll ever play together.

It is, without anyone saying so.

Aloha is jittery, less focused, more rushed, like he has something to do, somewhere to go. Scuba almost asks if he needs to go meet up with the S4, if Aloha's original teammates aren't worth anything more than last night's remains, the dusty corner at the back of the shelf, reserved for broken weapons and broken dreams.

Is that all that they are now? Broken? Destined to forever sit forgotten on the high shelf, out of reach for any desirable person?

(Aloha leaves quickly after the battle, too soon to see the results. Scuba texts them to him anyway and gets no response until the next day.

_Thanks. Sorry._

The words mean nothing to him.)

\--

Being part of the S4 means no time for his friends, no time for anything that Scuba once thought Aloha found fun. His friend has changed in ways he doesn't want to admit.

The focus is there, hardcore and straight forward, almost Army-like in a way. The casual ease of battles, won right after another, releasing a Skull-esque vibe. The arguments and bickering rising from the battlefield radiate Mask in all the cynical glory. 

Aloha hasn't just joined the S4. He's _becoming_ the S4.

\--

Are parties no longer fun for him? Is that why he never comes?

They add their former leader to the guest list just in case, sending the invite weeks in advance in case he needs time to plan it around his schedule.

He never shows.

\--

Their groupchat keeps going for a bit, the beacon of hope until Aloha's replies come as infrequent as the Zapfish's disappearances. Straw makes a new chat with just the three of them without informing anyone and they use that one now.

No one talks in the original groupchat anymore and Scuba deletes it from his own phone two days later.

No use keeping it if it's dead.

\--

He's second best, second best, second best. Aloha isn't perfect, they all know that because no one can be perfect, no matter how hard they try.

He tells Scuba once (in the typical naive ten-year-old way) that it's his dream to be the best, to be the top, the perfect person in every way. 

That was seven years ago. And Scuba still honors it, even if it hurts.

\--

He picks up sniping a bit into turf, testing out shots in the training room. Aloha wanders in one day and happens to choose a charger as well.

And if he's amazing at the Gal, he's terrible at aiming. Scuba expects nothing less, but seeing that Aloha has the same weapon as him, silently puts down his charger and goes back to the H3. That, he knows, Aloha won't touch, but he mentally makes a list of weapons to use just in case.

Just in case.

(Aloha gets acclaim for using the charger, where his original weapon was short distance and now he has a decent set of skills for aiming perfectly. He drops the weapon after he gets tired of the attention, but Scuba knows better than to try to pick it up after that.

He always knows better. He's supposed to be second best, after all.)

\--

"So now what?" Straw's voice is low, strained. She sounds on the verge of tears, but it's too dark to see her face. The moonlight isn't bright enough to see, and honestly, Scuba would be fine with it.

"We keep turfin'," is the answer, but is it the one they want to hear or the one they need?

Straw sighs. Her eyes are shining slightly in the darkness. 

"We can't. Not without him.”

He can hear the desperation in his own voice and mentally chides himself. What is he so afraid of? Being alone? “We can make it work. We can find someone—“

She stops him then, and he can hear the frown in her voice, sense the tears slipping from underneath her eyelids. “I'm sorry, Scuba. I quit."

\--

He wonders if she quit because Aloha left or because he, by natural order of status, is the one left in charge. 

And he's second best, always second best.

Not as good as Aloha, never good as Aloha, so is that why she left? Is that why Octoglasses quits a day later? 

The girls have been hanging out more anyway, and he notices because every time he joins them, it’s like he’s a third wheel, the person just added on because they feel sorry for him. He doesn’t want their pity. 

\--

He stops hanging out with the girls. 

\--

He stands atop the headgear shop sometimes, staring the distance to the ground. It's a long way down, and he knows that well. He's always been scared of depths, not heights anyway.

Not for the first time this week, he feels a wave of calm wash over him as he watches the silent Square beneath him, devoid of any living thing, and wonders what it'll be like if he jumps.

It'll be over fast, and if he lands right, he can push the limit of the force needed to splatter him across the pavement like the cowardly squid he is.

No one will miss him anyway.

But there's always that voice in the back of his mind, the one that sounds nauseously like Aloha. It tells him not to, to step away from the edge, that things will get better. He supposes he's stupid for listening to his rational side, but he's grateful for it as well.

Scuba goes home intact that night.

\--

Mister Second Best, Mister Lazy Ass, Mister Oh My Cod You Didn't Hear It From Me But Aloha Needs To Get New Friends, Mister You Call That A Fashion Sense. Scuba has heard it all, has worn each title for more than a month each, has felt the blows of the sharpened verbal cuts, each one aimed perfectly on the already open wounds across his mind.

They never say it to his face in case Aloha's around, but they say it behind his back, words crossing beneath their cupped hands, side-eyed glares spent on him more than the gossip magazine in their laps. Pink Team's breakup does nothing to stop this. If anything, it gets worse.

(Whoever said whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger doesn't know what the fuck they're talking about)

He deletes his social media, scorned by the thousands of lost followers now that Aloha has left the team. He deletes the comments, the nasty, degrading, subtle, jabbing comments, from his mind, letting them trail into the depths of the side of him he never lets anyone see.

Teenagers aren't only skilled in turfing; they're also good at finding edges to work their daggers of insults into.

He can't be surprised anymore.

\--

He's so disgusted with himself. Self pity goes nowhere. Longing to be with someone who has evidently moved on goes nowhere as well. He forces himself to stop thinking about it, but he can't stop hating himself.

He never can.

\--

The people he dates never stay long. Aloha is the only person they really want, and he can't really blame them when he gets his heart broken so many times he stops caring. Anyone who dates him, he just directs them straight to his best friend, who somehow is always single.

"Aloha must hold the world record for dating his best friend's exes," Octoglasses jokes after his tenth breakup.

Scuba smiles at that, but all of them know the joke isn't funny. Maybe in the beginning. But not anymore.

\--

If Scuba is second best to everything, Aloha is the best at everything. And while Scuba would wish to keep the spite from his thoughts, he can't when he thinks of just how _oblivious_ Aloha is. Sure, the party animal wouldn't have noticed anything his friends didn't tell him, but it does nothing for Scuba's mindset.

He sees his friend with the S4, chattering on about nothing, everything, the small things in between. And he misses it. He misses the way the way Aloha smiles at his new teammates, the way he dances around them, always high on energy. 

It happened with _them_, so long ago. With Scuba, Straw, and Octoglasses, the original team, the team that Aloha forgot but hasn't forgotten him.

Second best to Aloha, and now second best to the S4. 

Life just keeps getting better.

\--

Aloha comes around every now and then, talking like nothing ever happened, like the team he left behind didn't fall apart at the seams once he vanished. He laughs, smiles, talks a mile a minute, and the three of them endure it.

They love Aloha, and they want him to be happy. If it means sacrificing their own contentment, then so be it. It's an unspoken rule now, and the cautious gazes from the girls and the bitten back comments from Scuba are kept simply because if they say anything remotely of disinterest, Aloha will disappear through their fingertips again, like attempts to catch wisps of smoke.

The topic of turfing never comes up until approximately three months from the permanent formation of the S4, the conditions necessary to push the three remaining members of the nonexistent team further apart, and their former leader even farther. Scuba has seen the Square from the roof of the headgear shop so many times he's memorized the look and feeling of the view, anticipates the words of caution and discouragement from his rational side, the dark and swirling thoughts of his radical side, growing stronger everyday, telling him to _jump, jump and everything will be okay_.

"So how's turfing?" The question comes with a smile and a laugh; typical Aloha. The three exchange glances, but no one says anything. "You guys find another member yet?"

Silence. And Aloha's smile starts to fade. "Guys?"

"No. We broke up." It's harsher than intended, but Scuba is tired of this. Tired of feeling lesser to his best friend, tired of letting Aloha -- though he means the world to him -- get whatever he wants, tired of letting their friendships fall apart because of separated teams, tired of Aloha being so fucking dense, even if he means well. And while life isn't fair at all, Scuba feels like he needs something, _something_ to keep living for. Aloha has been enough because his brain has accommodated to the loss temporarily. But it won't last forever.

Nothing lasts forever, evidently. They all know that well enough. it's only proved when Aloha's phone rings. Impromptu meeting for the S4, is his excuse, and he leaves faster than anyone can ask him to stay.

Scuba doesn't know if he even _wants_ his friend to stay.

\--

He stands on the headgear shop that night with no voices in his head other than that dark side, increasing so much that it drowns out even the sound of the blood rushing in his ears.

_Jump_.

"Don't jump," is the voice that counters it, almost like it heard what he just thought. He almost chalks it up to be that unusually silent Aloha side of him, but a hand actually reaches out to grab his wrist, like he'll jump at any second.

(And he would've if they didn't stop him)

He turns to see Forge, the second-in-command on Orange Team, eyes wide and shining with tears in the dim moonlight. Her grip is like a vice, fingers digging into his wrist. He winces in pain, though she doesn't let go. She instead draws him gently from the edge, silently, and he watches her face for any sign of her intentions.

There are none.

She takes him all the way down to the ground and doesn't speak until they're both safely on the concrete. "Are you going to run if I let go?"

He could lie, but there's no reason to.

"No."

Forge studies his face before releasing him, hands dropping to her sides.

The question forms on his lips, almost childish. "Why?"

She blinks. "Why what?"

"Why would you do that?"

She smiles then, all tears and no teeth, and turns to walk away. Her voice floats back him, distant and faint, but he hears it clearly all the same.

"Because I know how it feels. And I know how badly you needed that."

\--

He wonders if she's felt second best before. It wouldn't make sense in his mind, since she's almost the carbon copy of Army, but he supposes there's things he never sees with her. It's like that for everyone.

Fake it 'til you make it.

\--

The feelings, although diminished by Forge's intervention, come back later, hard and strong after a loss in a randomized lobby of turf. He almost doubles over from the impact of it, because if Aloha were still here, they'd be celebrating with the enemy team. Scuba wouldn't just be walking out of the lobby, he'd be dancing. Dancing with his team.

But they're not here.

Footsteps approach him as he's gazing up at the headgear shop, wondering if he'll be able to scale it without anyone noticing. He glances over to see Aviator, a half smirk on his face, hand outstretched. His tentacles are in the middle of turning from green -- the color of the enemy team Scuba just faced -- to regular purple. Full Moon is just behind him, tentacles also green. "Ey, Scuba. Good game."

Scuba stares at the hand and forces a smile onto his face as he completes the gesture, the expression on his face surprisingly becoming more genuine as he makes eye contact with the other. "Good game."

The smirk turns into more of a smile and Aviator pats him on the shoulder before leaving, but not until Scuba catches the look the purple Inkling sends him. It's one of recognition, one of empathy.

Or, if glances could translate into words, _I know what you're going through._

Full Moon doesn't offer to shake hands with him and instead hugs him before dashing away, heading in the opposite direction as Aviator.

It takes a moment before Scuba realizes Full Moon had slid something into his hand, a piece of paper with words scrawled on it in barely-able-to-read words.

_It's okay_.

The message is simple but unexpected, but it's all Scuba needs to walk away from the headgear shop without looking back.

\--

He realizes later that Aviator and Full Moon were also in that randomized lobby but without any of their own teammates. Scuba doesn't know the status of Team Purple, as none of them were completely involved in social media to begin with, but now, their traces are minuscule. Team Cyan is still there on SquidTube, their channels still there, but only Mask is frequent in uploading videos. The others are dormant.

He takes that to mean that they broke up.

And then the trend of Forge, Moon. and Aviator kick in and he wonders if both are overshadowed by their respective leaders. They have their moments, but Scuba himself barely knows them to be as famous as Army, Mask, or Skull.

Maybe the four of them have something in common, and the prospect of it is what prevents him from visiting the rooftop that night.

\--

That note means more to him than it should. It keeps him away from the headgear shop for two weeks.

\--

He starts seeing the other three in the Square from time to time, never enough to say more than hi but it's enough for now. Weeks turn into months and they start having actual conversations, superficial and unimportant, but the conversations are things he takes eagerly, throws himself into. 

(He misses talking to people who don't subtly insult him every five seconds.)

Forge has an idea to write down what they have in common, in an attempt to know each other. They go around in a circle, each finding something true with them and seeing if any of the others agree to it. When it comes to Scuba, he writes the only thing he can think about now.

_Always second best._

He expects Forge to see it and move on, but she just nods slowly before writing her own name beneath it.

And Scuba watches in partial amazement as she passes the paper to Aviator, who scribbles his own name under Forge's, and then to Full Moon, who puts her name at the bottom of the list. When the paper makes it around the table back to Forge, she glances first at the list and then at Scuba, a slight smile on her face.

He smiles back, hearts feeling like they're about to burst.

(_You aren't alone_, they tell him, in actions rather than words.

He isn't sure what that's supposed to mean, but everything is explained anyway.)

\--

Scuba is second best, has always been second best. But at least this time he isn't alone.

And if he can't live for Aloha, he can at least live for his new friends.

\--

"I'm sorry," is the first thing Aloha says to him. It's the first time they've talked in three months, a real and true conversation. It's been a month since Scuba has last stood atop the headgear shop. It's also been a month since Scuba has stopped hating himself. A month is a long time, and it allows him to greet his best friend with a smile.

"It's fine."

And he means it. Really.

"I shouldn't have left ya like that. You think we can be friends again?"

Scuba laughs. "We never stopped bein' friends, 'Loha. Where's your brain at?"

Aloha smiles then, bright and easy. "Now? It's with you, man. First and foremost. And I hope to cod it won't leave either."

"I hope so too." 

The smile grows wider. "Thanks, Scubes. You're the best."

"I am?" Stupid reaction to a simple remark, but Aloha takes it for what it is, even if Scuba didn't elaborate.

"You always were. Sorry it took me this long to tell ya."

When he hugs his best friend so hard he can feel the air leave both their lungs, he wonders if someone told Aloha everything. There's no way his friend could figure this out, know that this is what he needed all along.

Something tells him that no words were exchanged without his knowledge, no sudden realization where everything clicks after a long tirade. Aloha simply _knows_ and even though it's taken this long, it's the reason why they're friends, why they have been for this long, even though all this.

\--

The headgear shop simply becomes what it is: a headgear shop. It's not a way out, not a way to end everything. Just a shop.

\--

In the end, it's ironic how he's second best to Aloha, and second best to everything, to everyone, _but_ Aloha.

**Author's Note:**

> Isn't it lovely, all alone?  
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone  
Tear me to pieces, skin to bone  
Hello, welcome home


End file.
